


Frostbite

by Lt_Sarcasm



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-06-29
Updated: 2011-06-29
Packaged: 2017-10-20 20:10:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,824
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/216659
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lt_Sarcasm/pseuds/Lt_Sarcasm
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was his first week on the job, and truth be told he never figured it was going to be easy. Being an assassin was anything but that. He just never imagined that his first mission would be  to dress up like a soldier, infiltrate Blu Base, and battle angry gun-toting Russians and insane German doctors that wanted to cut him apart for "science"...and all for one stinkin' sandvich. And without his sniper rifle. What did he get himself into.....?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Frostbite

**Author's Note:**

> Quick note: This is my first 2fort fic, and just to let you know ahead of time, its set on a totally fictional map, since I couldn't really find a real one to suit the setting, so hopefully there will be no confusion....so... Please read and comment!

A blizzard had come in that night. Biting winds blew snow drifts across the frozen lake, which was guarded by two cliffs on opposite sides, and on each cliff sat a base. One Red, the other Blu. Both were lost in the stormy darkness, their inhabitants deciding it was a good idea to call an unofficial truce and seek whatever little shelter and warmth they could find in those cold stone outposts.  
But there was one exception.  
Over at the Red base a sniper was perched up in the watch tower, scope trained across the lake, with only a scarf to keep out the cold and his swearing to keep him company.  
“Oi, Jason, you’re so bloody new we’re gonna shove you out ‘ere to watch for Blues, ‘cause you need te practice!” He grumbled mockingly, looking through the scope, which was pointless, since he couldn’t see 5 feet in front of him because of all the snow. “Don’t they know itsa flippin blizzard?!” He couldn’t help but shiver.  
“Holy dooley, its cold!” He never complained like this, being an expert assassin. Business was business, and he had survived worse conditions to get the job done.....but then again....it WAS pretty cold, mighty hungry, and he didn’t really have anything to do out here anyway but freeze to death while his “team mates” inside enjoyed hot chocolate and played cards by the fire. In fact, they were probably laughing at him right now for thinking this was a real assignment....  
That was it. Slinging his sniper rifle over his shoulder, and making sure his hat was still fixed to his head, he grabbed the rungs off the ladder and climbed down to earth, fighting the freezing wind that threatened to freeze his bare hands to the metal rungs.  
When he was close enough to the ground he jumped, landing lightly on his feet, which promptly sank three feet into the snow. A scowl appeared on his face as the cold creeped into his legs. He couldn’t wait to get out of the storm and drink some coffee out of his favorite mug, maybe even find a cozy chair and a newspaper to read, too. Somewhere nice and quiet, where he could ignore everyone and everything. The thought alone increased his pace as he trudged towards the warm lights of the base, shining blearily through the heavy snowfall.

*************************************************************************

 

“I reckon this outta do it.” Engineer said to his team mates as they crowded around him, watching as he connected wires to the fuse box. “ It’s only a temporary fix till I re-route the whole electrical system, but at least we ain’t gonna freeze to death in the dark.” He gave a small, but good natured smile.  
“Mff Hmf?” Pyro sounded a bit disappointed.  
“Yup, we have light.’ Engineer replied. “But if it makes you feel better, I guess you can burn somethin’ if yah really want too.”  
Pyro clapped its hands excitedly and ran off to find something flammable. Leaving Spy and Demo-man to talk to the texan.  
“Zhey call ziss base new?” Spy lit up another cigar, “ We’ve just arrived, and already it iz falling apart. I demand better working conditionz.’ He huffed, and promptly disappeared to do whatever spies do.  
“Gud job, lad.” Demo-man helped his friend up with one hand, a bottle in the other. “ ‘ow aboot we fine sum mighty fine grub tah top eet off, eh?”  
“Boy, does that sound good! Hopefully we can muster up somethin’ before Heavy wakes up from his snooze. Y’all know he’s like a cyclone when it comes to food. ” Engineer laughed and clapped the one eyed scotsman on the back, and together they headed to the mess, completely unaware that their innocent and care-free trip to get a meal would turn into something much, much more dramatic, and deadly....for one person, at least.  
Once there, the two comrades set to work, Engineer began snooping around the pantry for provisions while Demo-man made a bee-line towards the fridge, where he was sure he’d find some liquor of some sort.  
Opening the door he peered inside, his one eye surveying the contents of the fridge like a collector would eye a painting. It only took a split second for him to locate some beer shoved in the back, and with one hand he reached in and began to pull it out, but paused. Something caught his attention. An empty spot on the rack that should not of been empty, especially since it once held a very important item, that no one dare touch.  
He stared at the spot for a minute or two, and slowly the wires in his alcohol damaged brain connected. He turned to the Texan.  
“ Sey, Clayton.”  
“Yup?’ The Engineer, aka Clayton, looked up from the banged up stove he was trying to start.  
“ Has ta’ big man woken up yet?”  
“ I reckon not. We passed Heavy’s room, and he was snoring like a bear after it ate a hog that ate a deer.”  
The scotsman had no clue was that meant, but he took it for a “yes’ anyway. “But eet looks liek ‘is sandwich has takeen oof.’ He pointed to the empty spot in the fridge, and immediately Clayton was at his side, looking through the contents just to make sure.  
“Well I’ll be. You’re right, its not in here. But where could it have gone?” The two looked at each other, and instantly grew nervous.  
“ e’s gunna wake up at eny minut!” Demo-man uncapped the nearest beer and took a good long swig, allowing his counterpart enough time to freak out.  
“ We’ll be as dead as two mother hubbards in a bar brawl if Heavy comes in and finds us where his sandwich isn’t!” His calm demeanor was quickly getting replaced by a sweaty, frantic one. “Don’t you know what he’ll think? What it’ll mean for us? We gotta find that sandwich!”  
The two began a desperate search, pouring out the fridge and ripping open cabinets in a vain attempt to find it. It wasn’t until the whole kitchen was a mess that they paused for breath.  
“Find eet?” Demo-man asked, sitting down.  
“Nah. Looks like it’s the end for us, Scotty...” Clayton panted. The friends were about to accept their fate, when they both heard a noise coming from a dark corner of the kitchen. It sounded like contented munching.  
They looked over and realized they had an audience to their frantic show. The team’s new sniper, Jason, sat at the table, shoving the last portion of a very familiar looking sandwich, or sandvich, into his mouth.  
“Wot?” He asked irritably, crumbs flying out of his mouth.  
Clayton flew over to the table and picked up the plate the sandvich used to be on. It contained a card, which he promptly picked up and shoved in the Australian’s face.  
“DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA WHAT THIS SAYS, BOY?!”  
The sniper took a moment to read the card. In clumsily scrawled out words it read:  
“Porperty of Hevy. No touch.” He blinked calmly, scratching his blonde sideburns. “I didn’t know it wus his sandwich. I’ll make him another, if you’re gonna put up such a hissy about it.”  
“YOU CANNAE MAKE “IM ANOTHAR! “ it was the demo-man’s turn to yell in his face. His lone blood shot eye staring angrily into his. “ YOU ‘AV VIOLATED TA SACRED CODE UV TA SANDVICH! “  
” Wot’s that supposed to mean?!” He asked incredulously, licking his fingers and standing up. “You’re all a bunch of bloody loons, freaking out about a sandwich!”  
“You don’t get it!” The engineer tried to calm himself, but its hard to stay calm when you’re about to witness the violent and bloody doom of a team mate. “Its not a sandwich, its his SANDVICH!”  
Jason was about to retort when suddenly loud foot steps could be heard coming down the hall. They all froze as a familiar gruff Russian voice echoed down the walls to meet them.  
“Was good nap! Now time for Sandvich!” They could hear the Heavy yell heartily, but his tone would soon change when he found out what happened.....  
“Run!” the demo-man cried, but Clayton grabbed him and Jason. “Too late, we have to hide him! Quick, under the table”  
Before the sniper could say anything he was grabbed and shoved underneath one of the tables, his two team mates trying to act as casual as they could when Heavy stomped through the doorway.  
“Greeting, comrades!” The large man nodded, and hummed an old Russian tune as he threw open the door of the fridge and looked inside. The engineer’s hands were pale as they death-gripped the table, while his friend downed the rest of his bottle and let it fall to the floor.  
The Russian paused. It was only a few seconds, but for them it seemed like hours. His cheerful tune had stopped and was replaced by a cold, biting silence. Slowly, he turned around, a dark glint in his eyes that sent shivers up their two spines.  
“Who. Ate. My. Sandvich?’ His voice was low and deadly.  
“ Well, gosh. Calm down.” Clayton held up his hands in appeasement. “No one here at your sandvich.”  
“ Little toy man lies! Sandvich has been eaten! I can smell him!’ He yelled and threw the engineer and demo-man aside. With a mighty heave he threw the table across the room, where it smashed into pieces against the wall.  
Jason tried to make himself as small as possible on the linoleum floor, but he knew it was pointless as he stared into a certain pair of seething Russian eyes.  
“Crikey!” Immediately he was picked up and throw against the wall, struggling and gasping as the life began to get choked out of him.  
Clayton, again, tried to come to the rescue, tugging at the Heavy’s arm. “Settle down, pardner. It was a simple mistake!”  
“Not mistake. Now he dies!” He tightened his grip.  
“ Heavy, he’s on our team. I don’t think he meant anything by eating your sandvich. Let him go.”  
“But he must pay!”  
“Now I’m not saying he won’t, we’ll find a way to make up for it. Just don’t kill him. Yet.”  
For a second it looked like Heavy would actually snap the sniper’s neck, but his eyes grew bright as an idea occurred to him.  
“I have great idea!” he exclaimed.  
“Great. Fine. As long as it involves you not killing me.” Jason gasped.  
“You vill get sandvich back!”  
“How?”  
“You get ‘nother sandvich!” Heavy replied, obviously pleased with himself.  
“Can’t I just make one?”  
“No, need special ingredients that I tell no one. You go find one!”  
“Hold on one dandy second.” Clayton interuptted. “You only made one sandvich, but you’re saying there’s another one somewhere else. If so, where?”  
The Russian gave a cold and ruthless smile that made the sniper’s neck hairs crawl.  
“Is at Blu base.”

 

 

TOBECONTINUED! (Hopefully)


End file.
